


Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This

by Silverlyte



Series: Silverlyte's Sabriel Oneshots [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27483853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverlyte/pseuds/Silverlyte
Summary: It's wrong. It's all wrong.Being kissed by Gabriel is supposed to be wild. Passion. It's supposed to be hard and nipping, a tongue in his mouth, teeth tugging at his bottom lip. It's supposed to be hands, hard and grasping and cornering him into the wall, slipping in beneath the edge of his shirt and splaying over skin.It's supposed to be maddening and breathless, and all the things that he has come to associate with the archangel.But it's not any of those things.--- Aka : Gabriel kisses Sam, Sam panics and runs away.
Relationships: Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: Silverlyte's Sabriel Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005450
Comments: 12
Kudos: 113





	Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This

**Author's Note:**

> ~I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters. Do not translate or post to another site.~

**Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This**

It's wrong. It's all _wrong_.  
  


Being kissed by Gabriel is supposed to be wild. Passion. It's supposed to be hard and nipping, a tongue in his mouth, teeth tugging at his bottom lip. It's supposed to be hands, hard and grasping and cornering him into the wall, slipping in beneath the edge of his shirt and splaying over skin.   
  


It's supposed to be maddening and breathless, and all the things that he has come to associate with the archangel.   
  


Sam knows. He knows what it's supposed to be. He's lived it in his head so many times - has conjured dreams of what that infuriating, sugary mouth would do to him. How mischievous, whiskey eyes peering up at him would look as he slid knees down on to the floor before him.   
  


But it's not any of those things.   
  


It's nothing Sam expected it to be.   
  


It's not annoyance and tension, mock fights and petty arguments that break into lips molded together, bodies spewed and entangled across the bed.   
  


Instead, there is dried blood matted in his hair, mud and rot splattered across the front of his shirt. The exhaustion of a hunt gone wrong weighing around him like a wet blanket, hot and suffocating; it still tingling in places where Gabriel's grace had mended bone and stitched the split of skin.   
  


And when Gabriel leans in towards him, there is desperation in the way he reaches up, cupping hands against Sam's cheeks. His eyes warm and bright, filled with a tenderness he does not recognize; his expression open, earnest.  
  


_Where is the hunger? The playfulness? Where is the taunting curl of his mouth, the ridiculous wriggle of his eyebrows? The god awful pick up lines?_   
  


Sam has plenty of time to pull back. Long enough for his heart to quicken in anticipating, for his breath to stall in the back of his throat. There is a long moment where Gabriel merely looks at him, but it doesn't occur to him to draw away.   
  


If he's being honest with himself, he doesn't want the touch to end. His lips part on an invitation, the tip of his tongue poking out to wet them.   
  


Gabriel's eyes catch the movement. Watches it.   
  


And then he does kiss him.   
  


_It's wrong. It's all wrong._

  
Too gentle. Hesitant. More of a press, just the lightest amount of pressure, than it is really a kiss.   
  


It's the most precious thing Sam has ever felt. Better than anything he has ever known before.   
  


And Sam... he can't handle it. That. It hurts too much. It burns. This softness. The way Gabriel's thumb smooths across his cheek. It's too much. It's too sweet.   
  


He wants it. He wants it so badly but he knows - he knows he can't. He could never.   
  


He doesn't deserve to be kissed like this.   
  


It terrifies him.   
  


So he runs.   
  


When Gabriel withdraws, when he goes to press their foreheads together, Sam breaks away from him. Stumbling back with wide eyes and a heart that aches so bad he can't breath. He can't think, he can't speak, all he knows is he has to go, he has to go now-  
  


He pretends he doesn't see the hurt on Gabriel's face before he whirls around and flees out the door, out into the biting cold and frost. Away from the motel with its shabby carpet and stained drapes, and archangels who could never love him. Because Sam knows what happens to people who do.   
  


He doesn't notice the wetness on his cheek, his vision starting to blur. 

* * *

There's a case.  
  


There is always a case.  
  


This time, it's slime monsters in the bayous, and Dean has been eyeing him from across the table for the better part of the afternoon.

  
He's _supposed_ to be helping him research but all he's done is look at him. Opening and closing his mouth every now and again, making faces like he wants to say something but doesn't quite know how to start. 

  
Sam huddles down lower, trying to hide behind the large, dusty book in his hands. If he slides down any further, he'll wind up on the floor.   
  


Finally, Dean sighs. Thumps the book spread out in front of him shut. "You've been sulking like a goddamn kicked puppy for weeks."  
  


Sam thinks being on the floor wouldn't be so bad. Maybe if Dean can't see him from under the table, they won't have to have this conversation.   
  


"Look, the guy's annoying as shit but it's clear you've got a thing for him, and he ain't been looking too hot lately either. Why don't you just date him already?"  
  


Sam's fingers tighten around the edges of the book with an intensity that pales his knuckles and threatens the old, brittle pages  
  


His chest aches. It hasn't stopped aching ever since- since Gabriel-   
  


Sam is startled to find himself blinking back tears. He's even more startled when the words, the ones that had echoed in his head every time he thought of that moment, come slipping out, unbidden. "I'd destroy him."   
  


Dean snorts, "Pretty sure he'd be into that."  
  


Sam breathes in, a sharp little intake through his teeth that does nothing to sooth the sting of those words.  
  


He thinks of softened golden eyes and caressing palms, lips pressing into his own-  
  


He thinks of Jess, and the stench of burning flesh.  
  


He thinks of a thousand different faces and names, people he's loved and who have loved him. How none of them are here anymore.   
  


And he _can't_. He can't do that to Gabriel too. He can't poison him, the way he has everyone else. Gabriel's already sacrificed himself once, he won't let him-  
  


"You should talk to him," Dean says, opening his book back up.   
  


Sam doesn't know how it happens. How the pain turns into anger but it does. Suddenly he's snapping, "What about Cas?"  
  


Dean looks up, startled, his brows furrowing, "Cas? What-"  
  


"When are you two going to start dating?"  
  


"What are you- Me and Cas, we're not-" His eyes are wide, "He's just-"  
  


"Madly in love with you." The declaration is spat out. Glaring, Sam slams his own book shut.   
  


He takes it with him when he storms off to his bedroom, Dean sputtering behind him.   
  


* * *

_No one can ever say he's not the brother of Dean Winchester._

  
The thought is a bitter one. Sam chases it down with another shot. Coughs at the burn it leaves in his throat. 

  
Waves the bartender over to refill his glass. 

  
He doesn't know the name of the place. Doesn't care much. It's quiet enough in here, and far from the glances Dean's been shooting his way ever since yesterday. The early daylight hours enough to repel most from coming in. The only other patrons are the man at the other end of the bar, frazzled and with the reek of someone desperately in need of a bath, and the couple laughing over the pool table in the corner. 

  
Sam tries not to notice the couple. Tries not to think about how, for a split second, he'd seen the back of the man's head and he'd thought it was-

  
But no. He's only seen Gabriel a handful of times in the bunker, these last three weeks. Has avoided him in all that time. He's not about to see him here.   
  


Which is why when the archangel _does_ appear and slips onto the stool next to him, Sam nearly topples right off of his.   
  


He's another drink in by then, his vision is beginning to blur. The room isn't quite standing still the way it's meant to, and it's only the hand that reaches out, stronger than it has the right to be, to steady him that keeps him from the floor. 

  
His head, seemingly unaware of this, feels like its spinning.  
  


Gabriel's not here. He wouldn't be here. God, why is he here? 

  
"What are you doing here, Sam?" 

  
It's like before. At the motel. It's all wrong. Gabriel's expression is serious. Determined. His jaw squared, his gaze intense enough that it makes his skin itch. 

  
_He looks the part of an angel. A true warrior and weapon of heaven._   
  


The hand hasn't moved from his arm.   
  


There's a lump in his throat.  
  


"You kissed me." It's choked out. Sam reaches, blind, for his glass. 

  
Gabriel looks so hurt then. His shoulders sag and his hand retracts, something sad and vulnerable in the gold of his eyes. His lips curve into a smile that's small and a touch too strained. "I get it, Samsquash. You don't have to-

  
He starts to move, to slide off his seat. 

  
And Sam - Sam's not thinking. When he reaches out, grabs on to the front of his shirt. His head hasn't stopped spinning. He feels sick, and he doesn't know if it's all the drinks or if it's the thought of Gabriel leaving. 

  
"I can't," He blurts, voice too loud, slurred at the edges, "Not again. I can't poison you, too. I can't. _I can't_." A sob claws up his throat, "You'll die. They always die." 

  
It all comes pouring out, then. Jess. Ruby. Even Dean - he's died for him. He's died because he loves him. Everyone's died, and they've left him. Sam's a curse, poison; he's tainted and this is the way the world reminds him of this, reminds him that he doesn't deserve to be looked or touched or kissed the way Gabriel had done-

  
And Gabriel is different, he has to be different. Because Sam can't do it again. He can't be loved. He can't watch someone die because they've been with him. And why did he have to go and mess that up? Why did he have to kiss him like he had? Why did it have to hurt so much that he did?

  
By the time he's done telling him, Sam can't catch his breath. He's trembling, sobs racking through his body, the last of his ramble barely understandable. He can't see anymore. His tears reduce the world around him to shapes and colors, but he can feel Gabriel's tension beneath his hands. 

  
He's silent for a lengthy moment, long enough that Sam feels the need to tighten his grasp on his shirt. And then Gabriel's letting out a long breath, crowding in close to the stool. His hands come up. One touches his cheek, brief and feather light, before it moves to stroke the back of his head instead. The other arm wraps around his shoulders, draws him in until Sam's forehead is rested against his chest.   
  
  
"Sam. You're not poison." He says, softly, "They're not your fault. Look at me. I'm here. I'm still here. I've loved you for this long, and I'm still here."

  
And then, "Don't you know by now? Tricksters never really die."  
  


* * *

  
Sam doesn't remember them returning to the bunker. 

  
But when he wakes, it's to the sensation of fingers in his hair, blankets tangled around his legs. And when he squints his eyes open, the room that greets him is his own. 

  
His mouth feels as if he's gargled sand but the throbbing, splitting sensation of a hangover is suspiciously missing. 

  
His cheek is pressed into something warm and solid, and it takes him a moment to realize that it's Gabriel's thigh. That the hand has to be too. 

  
_Gabriel.  
  
_

Snippets of the night prior come trickling in; him crying hard and long, and the dirty glances the bartender kept shooting Gabriel even after he'd run out of tears and resorted to pitiful sniffles; Gabriel holding on to him throughout it, his voice low but stern, his eyes tired when he finally managed to pry Sam off him long enough to coax him into downing a glass of water. 

  
He remembers talking. Hours of talking.   
  


_Gabriel telling him that he loves him._

  
For a moment, he thinks the panic should be surging up inside of him. He waits for it to. Because nothing's really changed. He's still that same tainted-

  
The fingers in his hair stall. "No."

  
Sam swallows. Turns his head so he's looking up at Gabriel. "No," He agrees, scarcely more than a whisper. 

  
Gabriel stares at him, his eyes flashing unusually bright, before he nods. Once and satisfied. They're beautiful, those eyes.

  
The fingers shift to his cheek. Linger there for a moment before they pull away.

  
The panic doesn't come.   
  


In its place is something else. Something content and lounging, and- 

  
"You should kiss me again." He doesn't know where he gets the courage, if it's courage at all or if it's nothing more than selfishness. 

  
Gabriel's surprise melts into a sly look, "Why Sammy-"

  
Sam shakes his head _no._ Leans up to hook his hands behind his head and pull him down himself, Gabriel making a noise between a laugh and a yelp.   
  
  
This time, when they kiss, it's just as soft. It hurts nearly as much, and it breaks his heart a little more but he stays.   
  


He stays and he kisses him back, and it's _right.  
_


End file.
